Hermione Drabbles
by luckei1
Summary: A series of drabbles written for the Hermione: Last Drabble Writer Standing contest. All are fewer than 500 words. Given prompts on various subjects.
1. A New Definition

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Hermione Granger or Harry Potter. Just having fun. :)

**Prompt: **A Defining Moment

**Words: **474

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**A New Definition**

On a bright, sunny July afternoon, three girls were walking home from a very special summer camp, offered to only the best and brightest students. One girl walked slightly in front and in the middle of the other two. Her bushy brown hair bounced up and down with each delighted step she took, for she loved learning and most especially talking about learning. As it happened, the girls were discussing something from their session that day on animals.

"No, Susie, don't you remember what Miss Taylor told us?" asked the girl with bushy brown hair in a self-important tone.

"I bet YOU do, Hermione," said Alice, rolling her eyes at the back of Hermione's head. Susie stiffed a giggle.

"Horses, of the genus and species _Equus caballus_, have one fewer bone than the average adult human."

Felicity and Sandy exchanged a look.

"And when do you think that's going to come in handy?" Susie asked.

"You never know," replied Hermione. They reached Merriweather Lane and stopped. Hermione smiled at her friends and glanced down the street. "Well, see you tomorrow girls. Don't forget to read that section on the Parliament," she said, turning to walk down her street.

Halfway to the stone path to her house, she turned around and waved at her friends, still standing at the end of the street. She didn't see Susie whisper in Alice's ear, nor did she hear them giggle as she reached the front door.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" she announced after entering the house. "Wait until I tell you about school today. We learned about—"

"In the living room, sweetheart," came her mother's slightly anxious voice.

Hermione found both her parents sitting on the sofa, puzzled expressions on their faces, warily eyeing a very strict looking woman in a long, dark dress and tall pointy hat. Her mother had a piece of yellowed paper clenched tightly in one hand. The woman turned to her, lips pressed tightly.

"Miss Granger," she said with a curt nod and the barest hint of a smile. "I've just been telling your parents that you are a very special young lady."

Hermione's eyes widened as she really looked at the woman. There was something… _different _about her, she could tell; she could _feel _it. It was almost tangible, carried like particles on the air. And it wasn't the pointy hat.

The woman extended her hand. "It is truly a pleasure."

When Hermione looked into her eyes, she saw a sparkle that belied the woman's age and hinted at mystery and excitement and even danger. She saw power in the woman's dark, swirling eyes, power that reflected something she'd seen in herself when she had least expected it. She had to know more.

She smiled bravely at the older woman and accepted her hand.

"The pleasure is mine."

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	2. School Supplies

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or Hermione or Hogwarts or any of it.

**Prompt: **The Philosopher's Stone

**Word Count**: 486

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**School Supplies**

Hermione was all set for the first day of classes at Hogwarts. She had her bag full of scrolls, a red eagle quill, a few ink bottles in different colors, books, and her favorite Muggle supply —highlighters. Her first class was Charms and she sat beside a girl with dark brown hair.

"My name is Hermione," she said as soon as she'd pulled out her school things, setting them on the table just so.

The girl looked at her. "Padma," she said.

Hermione smiled primly. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and faced the front of the room. Mentally she added _Padma _to the list of people she'd met. There'd been Neville, Ron, Harry, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Hannah, and Susan on the train, and since then a whole lot of people. She'd forgotten the name of a slightly older girl in Hufflepuff and had spent all of breakfast trying to remember it.

"What is _that_?" Padma asked, nodding at Hermione's space.

"What's what?" she replied.

"Those…odd, brightly colored sticks."

Hermione looked at the girl. "You mean my highlighters?"

Padma scrunched up her nose. "What do they do?"

"You've _never_ heard of a highlighter?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"No."

"Well," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "It's used for highlighting things. Watch." She used her quill and black ink to write her name on a piece of parchment. "If these were class notes, I could highlight important things I want to remember or come back to later." Hermione pulled ran the tip of the orange highlighter over her name.

"See—" Hermione started. Then she frowned. The highlighter had smeared her name. "Oh…"

"Doesn't look like it works too well," said Padma.

Hermione clenched her jaw. "It works _fine _with pens."

"Well, we use quills, not…pens, whatever _those_ are," the girl said.

Hermione looked around the room and saw that everyone, even that Harry Potter boy, had quills and ink bottles on their tables. Not a pen or highlighter in sight.

Just then two girls sat down at the table in front of them. It was Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, two of Hermione's roommates. Padma leaned forward and the three of them started talking in hushed voices and laughing.

Hermione frowned and looked at the highlighter in her hand. It appeared as though those girls had already formed a friendship, and they didn't seem interested in inviting her in.

She sighed and put the highlighters back into her bag. She'd have to find another way to mark her class notes for studying.

The teacher rapped his wand on his desk, drawing all attention to him. Hermione straightened in her seat and readied the quill over the parchment. All thoughts of the girls, and the twinge of pain she'd felt at being left out on the first day, disappeared as the class got underway. By the end, she was the only student who had successfully performed the first spell.

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	3. Shooting Range

**Title**: Shooting Range  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: none  
**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter and all that  
**Summary**: Hermione has to focus  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) d/hr  
**Word Count**: 495

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**Shooting Range**

"Nice shot, Granger."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Hermione returned.

He continued smirking in delight and she wanted to slap him so hard it left welts.

"Almost had it that time. Maybe if you aim a few feet to the left, you'll actually hit the target."

"You think you're so much better than me, don't you?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Wordlessly, Draco picked up his own weapon and fired. Three shots, three hits. Three _kills_. He set the hard steel on the table.

"I happen to be a better shot than you. _Today_. Go again."

Hermione glared at him through the glass separating them. She had to _focus_. On Harry. Ron. Ginny. On everyone who had died, on everyone still alive. She couldn't let her mind wander to Malfoy and the tight black T-shirt he'd worn today, displaying the nasty scar on his left arm.

_This _was important; what theywere _doing_ was important. The Death Eaters wouldn't expect guns.

_If I hit the target, I'll cut my hair._

Missed. Draco chuckled.

_If I hit it this time, I'll punch him. _

Hermione smirked and squeezed. Missed again—not even _close_. She kept pulling up. The last time she'd shot a gun she'd accidentally hit Ron. Just his arm, but she'd been trigger-shy ever since. Malfoy was supposed to fix it.

Hermione aimed again.

_I'll kiss him if I hit it between the eyes_.

She took a deep breath and, without thinking about it, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

Draco whistled. "Nice shot." This time he meant it.

Hermione reluctantly looked. She'd hit the target, right between the eyes.

"Lucky shot," she muttered, wondering if she had the guts to follow through. And kiss him.

"No way," said Malfoy, reloading his gun. "You wanted that one, I could tell. It was…palpable."

"My eyes were closed," she said, setting her gun down and walking around the partition.

He looked up at her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You're _serious_?"

She nodded.

"Huh. Maybe it _was _luck."

No, he'd been right. She _had _wanted that shot, more than anything that made any sense to her, more than fighting, more thank books, more than War—more than hitting a piece of paper with a bullet.

She'd wanted it for a long time.

She was nervous. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was racing. _Stupid tight T-shirt_. She took a few steps toward him.

"Uh…Granger?"

"Yes?"

"What are you…?"

She kissed him. It was awkward, and sloppy, and if she stopped she thought she'd die of embarrassment. Then he kissed her back and maybe he'd wanted that shot too.

Finally she needed air and she couldn't look at him. Her heart was still racing.

"Granger." His voice was thick and raw.

"Just—no. I—" She turned to leave, to run, to burn, but he caught her arm.

"Let's make a deal," he said. "Whenever you shoot like that, you…do…_that_. Again."

Her heart skipped and she smiled shyly. "Deal."

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	4. Reading

**Title**: Reading  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: None  
**Summary**: Hermione explains what she did on the train to Hogwarts second year.  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) D/Hr, H/P, R/L

**Prompt**: What was Hermione doing while Harry and Ron were flying to school?  
**Word Count**: 499

**ooo **

**Reading **

"You _read_?" cried Ron incredulously.

Draco, Pansy, Luna and Hermione laughed; Harry and Ron did _not _laugh.

"Yes, of course, Ron," said Hermione. "What did you expect I would do?"

"Well… look for us at least," said Harry, looking slightly cross.

"Oh, I did, a bit. But news quickly spread that you two weren't on the train. I figured there was a good reason and didn't bother worrying."

Ron's jaw dropped. "_You?_ Didn't _worry?_"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If I had known, _Ron_, that in a few short years Voldemort would be after Harry once again, I _might_ have worried. As it was, I was more concerned with getting through all of Lockhart's ridiculous books before classes started."

Ron looked at Draco, sitting beside Hermione with a possessive arm around her chair. "She fancied him, you know."

"Oh, shut up!" Hermione cried, grabbing a handful of nuts and throwing them at him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, covering his head.

"Well, Ron fancied Rosmerta," Hermione said to Luna.

"Yes, I know," she replied loftily. "Ronald and I share everything."

Ron reddened and stuck his tongue out at Hermione.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Ooh, very mature, Weasley."

Harry was anxious to return to the topic at hand. "So what did people say?" he asked. "When we weren't there?"

"Uhm, well…" Hermione started.

"I was elated, Potter," said Draco with a smirk. "Thought maybe Christmas had come early and I wouldn't have to look at with your ugly face ever again."

"You were just hoping for a chance at the Snitch," Harry returned.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Touche."

Hermione continued. "People were…concerned, Harry, but no one panicked."

Pansy squeezed Harry's hand. "I didn't even _notice_, love."

Hermione giggled.

"But…you just _read_?" Ron asked, still frowning. "In your compartment?"

"Yes, Ron."

"What about the feast? Didn't anyone wonder where we were?" Harry asked.

"Sure," said Hermione. "But Ron's parents had already Owled Dumbledore, so all the teachers knew, and they weren't worried. I trusted the teachers."

"But…still. _You _weren't worried? At all?" Ron said.

Hermione considered the question. "Yes, a bit, I suppose. But truly, at the time, it was hard to imagine all the things that could have gone wrong. I mean, think about it. We were twelve. We had no idea the dangers ahead of us. I thought my exams were the scariest thing I'd have to face second year. _Now, _I know so much more…" She chuckled. "The older we get, it seems the more we know and the more we have to be afraid of."

Draco gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Everyone was silent.

"We're lucky," said Luna finally.

Then Ron started talking about the Quidditch playoffs. Hermione relaxed into Draco's arms and watched her friends. They really _were _lucky. They could sit in a restaurant, in Diagon Alley, and laugh about the hard times they'd been through.

Pansy quickly moved the conversation away from Quidditch to the upcoming reopening of Hogwarts and Hermione leaned in to join it.

**ooo **


	5. Do No Harm

**Title**: Do No Harm  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: None/death?  
**Summary**: Hermione had to guess.  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) D/Hr  
**Word Count**: 497

**Do No Harm**

_The case had been extraordinary: a middle-aged wizard was hit with a nasty curse that sent him flying into Muggle traffic. He'd been hit at least twice by cars and they'd had to call a Muggle hospital for help, supplies and technology. Finally it came down to the curse; she'd narrowed the possibilities to two, but couldn't definitively identify the correct one. She hadn't had much time—mere seconds—so she'd guessed. It turned out she'd guessed wrong._

Draco found his wife sitting in a tub of cold water, fully clothes and shivering, when he got home from work. He went to her without a word and turned on the hot spigot.

"You missed dinner," he said quietly, pouring warm water on her head, taking care to keep it out of her eyes. "I went to the hospital. Talked to Roger." He Summoned a comb and started gently brushing her hair. "Are you okay?"

"I killed a man," she whispered.

"No, you didn't."

"I might as well have. It was _my _fault."

"Did you think you'd _never _lose a patient? That you'd _always _find a way to save them?"

She bit her lip.

"Oh, my sweet," he said, placing soft kisses on the side of her head. "You are the most amazing person I know." He cradled her head against his chest, not caring that he was getting wet.

"I _guessed_, Draco. And I was wrong."

"I know, love."

"What does it mean? Am I not good enough? Should I quit? I don't want to kill anyone else."

"Listen to me, please. You didn't kill him; he was severely injured, and you did the absolute best you could. All it means is that you're not perfect after all."

"But if I'd only _known_…"

"Shh…you can't know everything."

"How can I ever go back there?" she whispered, tears streaming once more.

"Hermione, you chose this profession because you _care _about people. That's why you're having such a difficult time with this. I hate what this is doing to you, but I also know that the world needs people like you, doing what you do. You had an absolutely _awful _day, but tomorrow… think of the good you'll do."

As though moving in slow motion, Hermione reached a hand up to his face. "I feel… completely… _lost_."

He wrapped her up again; she was crying, clawing weakly at his chest.

"_I_ _failed_," she said over and over in a mournful whisper.

Draco pulled her away from him and she held on as though for her very life. "Just a moment," he said, stripping off his shirt. He got into the tub with her and pulled her against him, stroking her hair and telling her she would be all right.

"I adore you," he said. Every time she said she failed, he said it again until she eventually stopped. He continued his mantra, kissing her until he felt her finally relax in his arms.

She sighed. "I love you."

ooo

**A/N: **Thank you for reading:D


	6. The End of All Things

**Title**: The End of All Things  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: None  
**Summary**: What Hermione saw  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) n/a  
**Word Count**: 497  
**Note**: Title inspired by Lord of the Rings

**

The end of all things

**

"Did you look?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hermione gave him a weak smile and nodded. He'd been counting on her and Ron especially.

"And?"

She shook her head; Harry's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"It—it's okay," he said.

Only she knew it wasn't.

Remus had the idea to bring the Mirror of Erised to Order Headquarters after hearing Harry's tale of the Sorcerer's Stone. The one thing that stuck in his mind was that it changed: what Harry saw in the Mirror that year _changed_. First, he saw his family, then the Stone. And now—_now—_they _all _wanted Voldemort's defeat. Surely _someone _would see something in the Mirror that would help.

But it didn't seem to work that way. No one had seen anything particularly useful. And Ron wasn't even talking about what he saw.

Harry had hoped that Hermione, of all people, would see something—_anything—_useful. The location of a Death Eater hideout, a weakness of Voldemort.

Ron had gone into the room and emerged, red-faced, not five minutes later. Hermione's turn came next.

"I was nervous," she told Harry. "I know what I expected to see. It's what I've always expected I would see, should I ever look into the Mirror. It's what I've thought I wanted since I was twelve."

"What?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him sadly. "I always thought I'd see me with Ron. You know, a family."

"I… take it that's not what you saw."

"Not at all," she said.

"Well, remember, Hermione. What you see can change."

"I know, but…" she sighed. "The thing is, I'm not really _sad _about it. Which _also _surprises me."

"I saw me with Ginny, and we had a family. How's that?" Harry asked.

"Not at _all _helpful." Hermione's eyes widened. "You want that _more _than you want Voldemort dead?"

"Makes sense, really. I've always wanted family."

Hermione nodded.

"Ron told me, you know. What he saw."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He… saw what you expected to see. You and him."

Hermione shut her eyes tight. "Oh dear."

"He told me to tell you. He… I think he knew you wouldn't see the same thing."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "I _do _love him," she whispered. "But… not that way, I think."

Harry put his hand on hers. "It's okay, Hermione. Love… doesn't always do what we want it to."

"Tell me about it."

"So…" Harry started.

"I wouldn't have been surprised to see myself as Minister of Magic, or owning a bookshop. And… what I saw wasn't really surprising at all." She took a deep breath and looked into her friend's brilliant green eyes. "I was there, at the end, beside you, Harry. When you face Voldemort, I want nothing more than to be at your side."

Harry squeezed her hand. "Did I win?" he asked nervously.

"Of course," she said, laughing. "But it doesn't even matter, really, if that part comes true. So long as I'm there, with you, in the end."

ooo

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	7. Errant Light

**Title**: Errant Light  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: None  
**Summary**: When you've seen the world at its ugliest, you can appreciate the beauty.  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) D/Hr  
**Word Count**: 496

**Errant Light**

He had asked her not to go, and as she sat there with her friends and the remaining members of the Order, she understood why.

And it kind of broke her heart, a little.

There was no way she would have missed it, despite how extremely unpleasant she knew it would be. Two years—they had two years of fighting side by side in a terrible war, and nearly one and a half of those years they'd been in love. She smiled despite the circumstances, remembering just how stubborn he'd been in finally admitting his feelings for her.

Today he was on trial for his role in the war, and the things he'd done in order to maintain his cover as a spy. The Order had been outraged that he'd been arrested, but the Ministry, while perfectly willing to accept him as a hero, also wanted the wizarding world to know _exactly _what he'd done.

Someone was reading a list of his crimes. That was it; that was the entire trial. He'd be pardoned, but he still had to _pay_.

Some of the items read cause people in the courtroom to gasp and even brought tears to Hermione's eyes. But even though her watery vision, she saw even more shame, more guilt, and more pain on the face of the man in the chair in the center of the room. At one point, he became overwhelmed and buried his face in his hands, fisting his hair so tightly Hermione could see his knuckles go white.

He hadn't wanted her there, to hear that list, because he was afraid. He didn't trust that their love was strong enough to get to the other side of that list.

Hermione hadn't doubted for an instant and had told him so, but she didn't fault him _his _doubt, _his _insecurity. After living a life of being constantly told he was inadequate, it seemed only natural that he'd still doubt himself.

Finally the list was finished and the Chief Warlock stood, requesting the accused stand too.

"Draco Malfoy. You are hereby found guilty of seventy-eight counts of Unforgivable crimes. Do you wish to say anything to the charges?"

Draco shook his head.

The Warlock nodded. "In light of the evidence provided by members of the Order, you are hereby pardoned of seventy-eight counts of Unforgivable crimes. The Ministry would like to thank you for your excellent service in the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Thank you. Dismissed."

Hermione had watched him the entire trial and not once had he looked at her. When the Warlock dismissed the room, he finally did, his expression unreadable. Hermione smiled at him warmly and saw his eyes fill.

He made his way resolutely to her and hesitated only a moment before enveloping her in a crushing embrace. "You came," he whispered.

"Of course."

"You _stayed_."

"I loveyou."

"But… all that… what I did…."

She buried her face in his chest, clutching his robe. "I _love _you."

ooo

**A/N: **Thanks for reading:)


	8. When the World Changed

**Title**: When the World Changed  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: None  
**Summary**: The End  
**Pairing**: (If relevant) None; hinting of possibilities  
**Word Count**: 499  
**Disclaimer**: Don't own Harry Potter  
**Note**: Well, the first round of the Hermione: Last Drabble Writer Standing is over and... I won! Yay! Thanks to everyone for reading these and reviewing! Hope you enjoy this last story! There will be another round after July and I will most certainly be signing up for it:D

**ooo**

When the World Changed

Where were you when the world was changed, when the waves crashed over the mountain range?

It had happened faster than any of them had anticipated. One moment they were squeezed around a large table to hear the latest report from their anonymous spies. Next, they were rushing like ants, barking instructions and trying desperately to prepare themselves for the end.

Where were you when the firmaments wept, for the lives forever altered, neath a Dark wave swept? Where were you when the sun was veiled, when the Dark sand moved like a cloud of hail?

It didn't seem possible that the Dark side could be so huge. Dementors, giants, goblins—and Voldemort's Death Eaters—blotted out the sky and moved like a large river, the sun reflecting off chinked armor and wand tips.

Where were you when the earth held its breath, when two men faced each other in a fight to the death?

In a field of tall grass and bright flowers, Hermione got her wish. She was with Harry, part of the squad whose sole purpose was to puncture the Dark lines and make for Voldemort. Only they remained, the fallen strewn all around. Voldemort looked at Harry, chuckled, and raised his wand.

_Where were you when the Dark ice froze, when a beacon of light fell on a dying rose?_

Strong arms wrapped around Hermione, pinning her arms to her side. She yelled, kicked, bit, but no use—she was quickly dragged away.

"Harry!" she called, trying to free herself. Her voice was lost amid the shouts and screams.

"He must do this alone," hissed a voice.

Hermione turned around and saw black robes, an evil mask, and pale grey eyes. She struggled harder and managed to elbow the man hard in the gut. His grip loosened and she sprang away, but it wasn't enough—he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

Harry and Voldemort were obscured from view. Another Death Eater was running toward the pearlescent cloud but as he approached, a bolt of energy shot out from the cloud, hitting him square in the chest. He didn't get up.

Hermione stopped struggling and could only stare at the cloud until, moments later, it imploded, sending out a shockwave that knocked her and her captor to the ground.

Only one thing mattered.

Harry had won.

_Where were you when the dividing line was breached, and two enemies touched something before out of reach?_

"Malfoy?" she whispered in the absolute silence after the end.

Nothing.

"Malfoy." He was on his back beneath her, blood pooling under his head from where he'd hit a rock. "Malfoy!" she said frantically, ripping part of her robe and lifting his head to put pressure on the wound.

He groaned and his eyes fluttered open. He made to sit up and winced.

"No, stay there."

"Go," he choked.

"You saved me. I'm staying."

_Where were you when the world was changed, when the storm passed, and the Light reigned?_

**ooo**

**A/N:** Thank you again!


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